


Death Reaps

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [24]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is always present in the lives of UNCLE agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Reaps

Three agents had died, in three separate assignments, over three consecutive days. It happened sometimes. Everything could go relatively smoothly for several months, with nothing more than the usual injuries to contend with. Then, all of a sudden, the fates seemed to realise they had neglected U.N.C.L.E. and endeavoured to make up for the oversight.

A trio of sombre men entered the large office, each dressed in black, having just attended the joint memorial service. The two younger men both took a seat on the black leather couch, while the Old Man poured out three glasses of scotch. The three all raised the glasses in a silent toast, before downing the amber liquid.

"It's been a rum do all round," Waverly commented, as he sat down in the armchair.

He looked, and felt, every second of his seventy-odd years. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin remained silent, wearing matching grim expressions. Both of them knew that death was constantly at their shoulders; always ready and always waiting. Under normal circumstances every agent acknowledged it, without dwelling on it. However, when so many agents were lost so quickly, death was something they had to stare in the face. Respect had to be given to the Reaper in the hope he wouldn't come for them just yet.

Waverly refilled the glasses and another voiceless toast was given. He believed completely in what U.N.C.L.E. stood for, and he understood sacrifices had to be made, but every death hurt him. Each loss was a victory for the other side. Mr Waverly often asserted that agents were expendable, and in the grand scheme of things, they were. This didn't stop him from keenly feeling each death, and it couldn't prevent the guilt he carried inside.

The silence was shattered by the shrill sound of the telephone. Waverly stood and crossed over to answer it. After a short exchange, he replaced the receiver.

"You two are to go the Nebraska office," he told Solo and Kuryakin. "They need some help with a THRUSH nest which has sprung up in the area. Life, it seems, goes on."


End file.
